


Beneath Ferocious Darkness

by Beleriandings



Category: Akatsuki no Yona | Yona of the Dawn
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-03
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2018-05-30 23:40:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6446881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beleriandings/pseuds/Beleriandings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Just a few days ago, Seiryuu was captured by people who are targeting the power of the of the four dragons. Hakuryuu and Ryokuryuu went to save him without incident but from that moment on, Seiryuu hid his eyes and stayed in King Hiryuu’s mausoleum.”</p><p>- Chapter 103</p><p>In which Abi gets captured, and rescued, but nothing will ever be the same again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beneath Ferocious Darkness

I.

A voice, coming sharply through the pattering of the rain, the wet crunching sounds of his footsteps in the pebbly, damp mud at the edge of the rain-swollen stream. “Is he there? Did you find him?”

The words startled Shuten more than he would like to admit. “No” he said, through gritted teeth, sweeping back rain-sodden hair from his eyes as he rolled aside the lifeless body of a burly middle-aged man with blood in his hair, trying to catch a hint of bright blue in the surrounding greyness. “Not yet.”

Guen seemed to loom up out of the mist beside him. “Well, let’s keep looking.”

Shuten frowned. “We should be able to sense him, if he was here. I don't… do you?”

Guen hesitated. “No, but you know how Seiryuu is after using his power. Weak, flickering…”

 _But never far away like this_ , Shuten wanted to say, but held the words back, wrapping his damp cloak more closely about himself and carrying on looking. It was enough to make him doubt his own senses. It felt, to him, almost as though Abi were far away across the valley, and moving. But that was impossible, surely; the last Shuten had seen of Abi, he had been standing in a ring of enemies, and Shuten had felt that welling of power that he knew meant that Abi was summoning his strength, going through the mental preparations that would allow him not to be consumed by the dragon in his eyes.

It should have worked. In fact, judging by all the fallen corpses of the raiders, their faces contorted in pain and horror but not a scratch on them - it _had_ worked, and admirably well. That had been the main force of them, and it had been left to Guen and Shuten to round up those trying to flee in terror from the rocky gully in which they had fought, and chase them off or cut them down. An easy victory. Afterwards, when they had returned they had expected Abi to be there, unconscious and weak maybe, but unharmed. Until then, it had all gone according to plan, after all.

The only problem was that when they returned from across the ridge, Abi was nowhere to be found.

It was hard to see, here, hard to judge distance when the rocky mountain gully was cloaked in mist still, mingling steam and smoke from the burning torches that had been dropped to the wet stream bank, sputtering slowly out in the rain.

Some of the torches were still clutched in lifeless hands, or had been dropped in the mud in a last, futile grasp at a weapon.

He pushed aside another body, not expecting to find anything. Sure enough, it was another of the raiders, this time a pale young boy with a long scar on his cheek. He couldn’t have been older than eighteen. Briefly, Shuten wondered what his life had been, how he had become involved with the raiders who seemed to claw their way a little closer to Hiryuu Castle from out of the wild, mountainous lands near the northern border, with every turn of the moon. Quickly, he put the thought from his mind. The kid was not Abi, and thus none of his concern right now.

He kept on searching. And yet all the while, he couldn’t quite shake the feeling that Abi was slipping away, that familiar presence receding further and further into the distance… yet that made no sense, he knew. He must be mistaken, surely.

Guen’s voice interrupted his thoughts once more. “You know, I think you might have been right. Seiryuu’s not here.”

Shuten bit back a sarcastic response, feeling a sudden stab of worry. _If Guen felt it too_ … Instead he nodded, reaching out with his sense of the other dragons, concentrating on Abi’s dimmed light. He suddenly realised he could even feel Zeno’s warm golden brightness more strongly than he could Abi, and Zeno was miles away, back at Hiryuu Castle. He tried to block out Guen’s presence beside him, and Zeno’s more distant one, and concentrate only on Abi. It was difficult, it was indistinct, but - yes - there it was, that blue glimmer at the corners of his mind. _Just over_ …

“That way” said Guen, breaking into his thoughts, and Shuten’s eyes opened to see Guen pointing with his dragon’s claws in exactly the direction Shuten’s own thoughts had been turning. Downstream, out of the valley and onto the plain.

Shuten nodded. “I’m going to take a look, first.”

With that, he took a running leap, feeling the wind’s full force buffet him in the air for a moment as he came out of the lee of the low bluffs, before landing neatly on the overhanging, grassy cliff edge.

For a moment all he saw was heavy iron-grey cloud and rain, a sudden burst of lighting blinding him momentarily, making him curse. He peered down at the valley, and the trees that clustered about where the stream joined the flatter ground below. Everything seemed now like a grey blur, as though water had been spilled across still wet ink, and he thought, for a moment, that it would be a fine thing if Abi were here, with his all-seeing vision. The irony of it almost made Shuten laugh, bitterly. Still, he realised, in the absence of Abi, Shuten’s high vantage point was the closest they had to the piercing eyes of the dragon.

He craned and peered down at the valley, searching for any hint of movement, anything at all…

 _There_.

It was unmistakeable; a cluster of tiny, grey smudges, pouring from where the stream cascaded down and widened out from a swift mountain rill into a wider, meandering strip of grey water on the flat ground. They were moving fast, he thought, fast enough that they could be on horseback.

_Did they really think they’d get away with this? Didn’t they know who they were up against?_

He ground his teeth, making a fist; their position matched perfectly with where his senses told him Abi was. Some of the raiders they had fought - apparently some sort of new alliance of the old wandering bandit factions, who had nevertheless grown alarmingly unified and bold of late - must have escaped, must have joined up with the rest of their band at the bottom of the hill. And they had kidnapped Abi. Shuten could picture it; Abi on his own, unconscious and vulnerable on the muddy stream bank, figures slipping away from the battle and melting into the deepening shadows, waiting until Guen and Shuten were out of sight over the ridge. Coming back and picking their way through their own dead, lifting Abi’s limp form in their bloody hands…

Shuten had seen enough. For a moment he struggled with the temptation to simply jump down into the valley, to go after them and never stop until he had lifted Abi to safety, though not before the sharp blade of his spear had spilled a little more of their blood, of course. But then sense returned to him, as he thought of Guen waiting back beside the stream.

And so he jumped back down into the rocky crevice, boots sinking deep into soft, muddy ground stained with blood as he landed.

“Hakuryuu, there’s no time to spare” he said, stopping the questions from coming as he saw Guen coming up through the mist. “I’ll explain on their way.”

“On the way…? Talk some sense, Greenie… what did you see? Where is Abi? Where are they taking him?”

“I don’t know. But we’re going to get him back.”

* * *

II.

It was so loud here, Abi thought, as his awareness began to trickle back. His head felt as though it was about to split with pain. He was moving, he realised, a constant jolting making his temple collide painfully with something hard and rough and unyielding. He opened his eyes, which hurt, as they always did, _after_. It was mostly dark, and he seemed to be in some sort of confined space, a rough canvas canopy letting through a mere trickle of light, as well as a constant stream of water. Was that rainwater? He could see the sky through the canopy, and sure enough, storm clouds roiled above.

It had been raining, he suddenly remembered, before…

What had happened before?

His wrists and ankles were bound before him with thick, rough cords, Abi realised in confusion, but he could still move a little. There was something covering his eyes, too. It felt like roughly woven cloth of some sort, tied tightly in place. He could see through it easily, but he wondered, too, where it had come from.

He pressed the backs of his bound hands to his face; his eyes still prickled unpleasantly behind the blindfold, and memory was even slower in returning than usual, this time. He let out a tiny, strangled gasp as his hand came away sticky with dark blood, and he caught sight of a matching blood stain on the wooden floor on which he lay.

So that was why it hurt so much more than usual.

He was in the back of a cart or a covered wagon of some sort, Abi realised, wincing as he was thrown against the side once more by an unexpected jolt.

Abi wondered how long he had been out this time. It could even have been a _long_ time, he thought nervously. Days, or weeks, rather than hours. He had no way of knowing how much time he had missed, and the others must be worried about him. He could see the sun’s position - through the blindfold, the canopy, through the heavy, turbulent clouds - but without knowing where he was, or what direction he had been travelling in and for how long - even that didn’t do much to ease the disorientation that crowded in at him.

He tried to speak, lick his lips, but his throat felt like he’d swallowed a mouthful of sand. There was a little water sloshing around the base of the cart, and he shuffled over to it in his bonds, trying to cup it clumsily in his bound hands. It took him several tries, but he eventually managed to drink a little, the tiny sips of brackish rainwater making him cough and splutter with distaste. Yet he managed to swallow, and even to splash a little water on his face, removing some of the dried blood that had clotted unpleasantly on his forehead and in his hair, soaking into the blindfold.

Yet the water brought him a little more clarity too; afterwards, Abi found he was able to sit up and slow his breathing, and the memories came a little easier.

A riverbank, a battle… it had been raining then, too. Was this the same rain? Perhaps. He had opened his eyes then, let his power free, the dragon rising up within him and staring out of his eyes to freeze the enemy’s blood and stop their hearts. Shuten and Guen had been there too, he remembered, though they had been beyond the ridge, the last he remembered. The plan was for them to capture the stragglers, the ones who were out of range of the full paralysing power of Abi’s eyes, the ones who ran away, stopping the reinforcements before they could come. It was the way the three of them often worked, and, most of the time, it was devastatingly successful.

Apparently not this time, thought Abi grimly.

He struggled and fought with the bonds on his arms and legs, barely expecting it to be of any use. He was still weak, Abi knew. His strength always returned gradually after his power left him crumpling nerveless to the ground, his self stolen from him, momentarily subsumed by the fearsome soul of the dragon. It was an exchange that Abi knew well, a price he was accustomed to paying by now, but he still hated this helpless weakness that came after.

Besides, usually when his legs gave way beneath him, one of the others was there to pick him up.

This time though… he could hear shouting, not far off, the whinnying and the hoofbeats of horses. Overhead there were the brilliant bursts of lightning - accompanied nearly at the same moment by rolls of thunder, the storm right overhead - the ceaseless drumming and lashing of the rain and wind, making the horses skittish. Abi could still barely open his eyes without a stabbing pain going through them, but he did anyway, piercing blindfold and canopy with his gaze.

He was in a cart, as he had thought, in the middle of a ragged group of mounted men and women, the remaining raiders by the look of them.

 _Great_ , thought Abi. _So it seems I’ve been kidnapped_.  

Before he could think any further than that, there was a quiet, melodic sound behind him, making him turn, with difficulty. There was a new chink of light, a gap in the canopy being peeled open and letting in the wind, and Abi shivered for a moment, until he realised what it was.

A small, fluttering shape, wet and bedraggled but comforting and familiar, exploded into the cramped space in a burst of feathers.

“Jinju!” exclaimed Abi in sudden joy, as the green and red bird perched on his shoulder, letting out a tiny chirruping sound. “You shouldn’t be here, it’s not safe!”

The bird let out another small sound, fluffing up her damp feathers against Abi’s cheek. He couldn’t help but smile, wearily. “Ah, well, you’re here. I don’t supposed you have a knife hidden in your feathers to cut these ropes.”

Jinju fluttered around a little more, landing on the bonds on Abi’s hands, pecking at them. He almost laughed; it was a ridiculous notion that such a tiny creature would be able to get through the thick, hairy fibres. “No, don’t worry, I don’t hold it against you” murmured Abi. “I’m glad you’re here, anyway.” He let himself run the backs of his fingers down the little bird’s feathers thoughtfully, drawing a measure of comfort from the familiar motion; it was just about all he could do with his hands bound. Still, a plan was beginning to form in his mind. He could feel the others in his head, now that he focussed on them; Guen and Shuten were far off and faint, and Zeno was even further, back at the castle. But they were there; that was what mattered.

In any case, they should be able to track him. He hated having to rely on them so, but he supposed there was nothing to be done about it now. “Jinju” he said. “Listen carefully. I want you to find our two dear uncivilised clawed beasts, and make _sure_ they’re on the way to find me, understand? Bother them until they come. Then I want you to fly back as fast as your wings will take you, to the castle.” He smiled. “Make sure Zeno knows I’m alright. He’ll worry the most, but perch on his window sill and sing, please. Cheer the kid up for me until I get back, will you?”

Jinju cocked her head, looking up at Abi as though in deep scepticism.

“I’ll be fine” said Abi. He muttered it again, under his breath. “I’ll be fine. I won’t let anyone hurt me, I promise.” He smiled weakly, as the little bird chirruped once more, ruffling her feathers and flitting to the gap in the canvas canopy. “Now go, before they see you. And take care in the storm, understand?”

Jinju gave a final chirp, then turned, and flew away, out into the tempestuous air.

After she had gone Abi lay back on the wood, trying to collect himself, gathering his thoughts. Had they kidnapped him to use as a hostage? Or had they simply seen an opportunity - Abi lying prone on the riverbank - and taken it as it came?

“And if so” he muttered quietly to himself, “what are they planning on doing with me?”

They hadn’t killed him, that was one thing. They must have had ample opportunity to kill him if they had wanted to, but here he was, alive, and his captors seemed to be going to some effort to keep him so. 

Somehow, the thought was not as reassuring as it should have been.

Again, Abi cursed his own weakness. His power was strong and deadly, yes, but it was also his vulnerability, leaving him helpless as a sleeping child when the dragon’s strength left him. And it had to leave him, he had learned through his many hours of practice in his younger days; if he allowed the dragon to remain in his eyes for too long, it would burn through him, consume his heart.

He knew he should not rely on it as much as he did, for how defenceless it left him. Some of Abi’s worst shouting matches with Shuten over the years had been over this exact issue. He snapped at Abi and needled him often, and Abi gave back as good as he got, but for all that Abi knew that Shuten was afraid for him; they all were. Even gentle-hearted Zeno had scolded Abi a time or two for giving him a scare.

The thought of Zeno was like a knife twist in Abi’s heart; it had been then, when Zeno had saved him, that he had truly understood the power of Ouryuu, and Abi didn’t think he’d ever be able to forget what he had seen. Zeno had thought that Abi was unconscious all the time; he probably still did. And Abi meant to keep it that way. But he _had_ seen; he had been weak, still paralysed, but he had seen Zeno’s blood spurt as the sword cut his skin, had seen the kid’s eyes widen in fear and shock and pain, _screaming_ with it; blood on the ground, the man dropping his sword and running away in fear as the one he had just dealt a killing blow to did not die. Zeno simply kneeling there in the mud and taking the blow, shielding Abi with his body, and Abi’s paralysed muscles had never felt more useless than in that moment. All he had been able to do was to open his eyes a crack, just enough to see.

Often, he wished he had not seen.

And yet, at the time, Abi had not been able to look away, no matter how much his eyes burned, his mind blurring in and out of consciousness. Just before Zeno had turned back to him, quite healed and whole and not quite the person Abi had known minutes before, Abi had let his eyes slip closed once more, finally giving into the crushing oblivion that was encroaching on his consciousness, finally letting it pull him down into blackness until he woke again.

Often, Abi wished the entire thing had been a nightmare, a hallucination.

It hadn’t though. This he knew, and would never forget, as long as he lived.

A cry and a jolt broke him out of his memories. They had stopped, he realised, as the canvas was untied from the cart, letting in the light, such as it was, and the chill wind and rain. Abi suppressed a convulsive shiver of distaste. Hands seized his arms and legs, the hands of many people; even with the blindfold on, none of them met his eyes.

He wondered if he should struggle, try to break free, but it seemed to Abi that even if he managed to slip through their grasp, he would only fall bound to the muddy ground, to be taken right back again, probably in tighter bonds. Besides, he was still weak enough that he thought he might not even be able to escape their hands as it was. And in this state, he thought that if he tried to use his power he could well lose control, and then it might take him over, consume him. Either that or burn him to a husk.

No, better to pretend, for now, that he had not regained consciousness. It would let him listen, give him more options later.

Still, it was with regret that he let them carry him to a cave mouth. Oily smoke billowed from crude braziers on either side, orange flames spitting in the rain. Then they were inside, and the way was lit by torches in brackets on the walls.

Whispers were running around Abi’s captors, hands tightening on his limbs, and he felt a sudden stab of doubt; was he wrong? Should he tear away the blindfold and release the dragon within his eyes? Was it worth the risk of it rebounding on himself? Or should he perhaps attempt to fight his way out physically? Suddenly, Abi wished he had a sword. He barely ever used one these days, for it had been years since he had had any need for weapons other than his eyes. But he certainly _could_ fight his way out that way, if the need arose. _If he wasn’t weaponless and weak and bound hand and foot, that was_ …

 _It’s alright_ , he reminded himself. _They’ll come for me. The others will come._

The hands grasping at him as he was carried amongst the people - their faces cast in dancing bright firelight and thick black shadow - made him itch to be free from the ropes, to struggle against them, though he knew it would do no good. He thought about what the others would say if they could see him now, feeling a stab of frustration as he imagined Guen saying something about the pride and honour of being a dragon warrior, Shuten teasing him for being trussed up like a bird for roasting. He could imagine the worry in Zeno’s eyes. And then he thought of their king, Hiryuu who had been their world, the bright hope that surrounded him, that had bound them all together. 

It was not only the dragon’s blood, in the end, that had made Abi want to stay by his side, to protect him from danger.

That thought had always carried Abi through, when the screams of the dying tore through him, as in their final moments they felt the dragon within Abi’s eyes devour their hearts.

The familiar horrors - meticulously suppressed, most of the time - were just beginning to claw their way through Abi’s mind, defying his closed eyes, when a jolt brought him painfully back to himself. He had fallen, or been dropped, he supposed, on the hard ground, unable to break his fall for the bonds that still restrained him. Yet still he flinched at the impact, a reflexive motion.

“Ah! So the monster is awake after all. I suspected as much.”

“He was only pretending to sleep to get the better of us.”

“Kill him!”

“No, don’t kill him. Do you want to bring the wrath of the dragon down on us all?”

“Shut up. Just cut his throat, I say, and have done with it!”

“You’ve got no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, and you do? He’s a monster!”

“Yes, a monster! He killed my son!”

“He killed my husband! Kill him, I say!”

“No, keep him alive. Didn’t you hear the chief? We need his power.”

“I don’t care about his power! I want to see his blood!”

Abi sighed inwardly, as the voices rose. He raised his head and looked around, realising that there was no point in pretending anymore. Through the blindfold he could see a circle of people, lit from behind by firelight. Many carried blades, clumsy, ugly things most of them, but meticulously sharpened to cruel, glimmering points. They were pressing closer around him by the moment, voices coming up in a roaring cacophony. A heavy-booted foot on the side of his neck, not pressing down, but able to exert pressure if he struggled. His eyes were still swathed in cloth, and with his hands and feet tied…

 _Well_ , he thought with a grimace, _maybe this could get unpleasant after all_.

“Cut his bonds” came a sudden voice, from above and close by. Abi turned his head to look, and immediately felt hands on him again, lifting him to his still unsteady feet. Then his bonds were cut, ropes falling away from wrists and ankles.  

He leaned for a moment on the person behind him, who was holding him up, then determinedly put his weight on his own feet, meeting the gaze of the one who had given the order to free him. It was a man, tall - not as tall as Guen or Shuten he thought, though taller than Abi himself - and burly, with a thick thatch of dark hair and weather-beaten look to him. He wore thick, heavy furs against the cold - for it _was_ cold, Abi realised, their breath and the heat of the torches fogging the air inside the passage - and carried a longsword in his hand. As he looked back at Abi, he slowly and carefully sheathed the sword. “A gesture of good faith” he explained, with a sardonic smile. This man at least clearly knew Abi could see him, he realised. “In case you were wondering.”

“I wasn’t” said Abi, haughtily.

“Ha! Very well. Then all that remains is for me to welcome you to our service… _Lord_ Seiryuu.”

“I’m glad you got my name right, at the very least” he said dryly. “Sorry to disappoint you, but I serve no one but the King.”

The man tilted his head, the shadowed figures around them that he had paid no attention to before clustering closer. They were wearing masks, Abi noticed, crude things made of sewn hide or tree bark, but they covered their eyes. But the man before him - who seemed to be their leader, by the way he carried himself - wore no mask. _Arrogance_ , thought Abi furiously.

“A king who is dead” said the man, mildly.

“I serve him still. Now let me go, or I’ll - ” he reached up behind his head to loose the blindfold over his eyes, but froze immediately, as he felt the cold touch of a blade at the back of his neck, another four of the masked people surrounding him raising swords and spears to eye height, drawing even closer.

“I don’t know why you see so much difference between one form of servitude and another” said the man, with an affectedly careless shrug that made Abi grind his teeth. “You may have been told that people like us are _raiders_ , or _bandits_ , or _criminals_ , but the truth is we’re just simple people, the people of this land that your king held so dear.”

“I was given power by the gods to serve the King _and_ the country” explained Abi, as the blades inched closer. “But you’re nothing but cowardly, robbing, kidnapping filth. Let me go.” _There were too many blades, more glinting out of the darkness by the moment. If he was quick enough to take off the blindfold, and summon his power, then maybe he could take paralyse one or two before the others killed him, in his weakened state. Or maybe they would run away in terror._

 _Maybe_ , he thought grimly.

“I’m afraid,” said the man, and as quick as that he was close to Abi’s face, holding a short, sharp blade against his cheek, beneath his right eye, “that I can’t do that, Seiryuu.” Abi could smell the man’s breath; sharp and herbal, like the leaves that the people of the northern countryside chewed in the evenings while they told stories under the stars. “We’ve waited too long, we’ve all come together to capture a dragon of our own. Do you think it was easy, uniting all these runaways and bandits, people desperate for something more?” He laughed bitterly. “Now we’ve got you, even if I decided to let you go, there’s no way my people would agree to it.” He let his eyes flick to one side, then the other, where the people stood with their weapons, anger rippling amongst them. “We need your power to survive, to fight back, and if you give me only one option…” the flat of the knife pressed closer to the soft flesh below Abi’s eye, “…then I will not hesitate to _take_ it.”

“Idiot” spat Abi, squeezing his eyes obstinately closed behind the cloth. “Gouging my eyes out? _That’s_ your plan? It won’t give you my power you know, nor will killing me. If I die, the dragon’s eyes will disappear from the world, and then all your effort will have been for nothing. And I’d rather die than serve _you_.”

The man’s smile was mocking. “Is that so?”

Abi blinked. “Yes” he said, drawing himself up a little taller. “I’ve known my fate from the moment I was given the blood of the dragon. I know what I am, what I will be.” He twisted in their grip. “Now get your filthy hands _off_ me.”

“Ah, it seems we’ve caught you out” said the man. “You’re used to being the one with all the power, so you don’t understand how this works. It’s a weakness, you know.”

“Let me go, you - ”

Abi’s voice stopped in his throat as, quick as a striking snake, someone else’s hand shot out from the shadows behind and grabbed him by the hair, wrenching his head backwards. Another set of hands seized his wrists, pulling them swiftly behind his back in a painful lock, forcing him to his knees. Something glinted in the corner of his vision, and he felt cold metal against his neck, the flat and the pointed tip of another blade resting against his throat. All it would take to spill his blood would be the application of just a little pressure.

“It’s a very simple decision, Seiryuu” said the man. “Lend us your power, or die. Now, are you still sure of your choice? It would be such a shame if a power like yours went to waste.”

The tip of the sword was pressed beneath his chin, the metal cold and sharp, just pricking the flesh enough for a single drop of warm blood to run down Abi’s neck. The hand in his hair twisted painfully, drawing his head back further. He swallowed nervously, glancing one way then the other. “Did you not _listen_?” hissed Abi. “I _can’t_ lend my power. That’s not how - _ah!_ ” he gave a strangled cry as the hands gripping his arms twisted them up at an even more painful angle, a knee pressing into the small of his back. Another drop of blood was rolling down his neck from the shallow sword cut beneath his chin.

“Don’t presume to lie to us about your power. Maybe you can’t lend it, but you can direct it, use it for whoever you call master. We know about you, more than you think, you and your brothers.”

“How - ”

“You may think you leave no survivors, but once in a while one gets away. Sometimes their minds are broken and mad, but yes, they come back.” The man laughed humourlessly. “Perhaps you even _like_ to let one crawl away once in a while, hmm? Maybe it makes you feel more powerful. Or maybe it lets you live with yourself. Maybe that’s it.”

Abi was barely listening anymore, his teeth gritted in pain as the hand twisted in his hair, but the man continued speaking.

“And when you let them live, you know where they come? They come to us. They’ve told us things, more than you can guess, _monster_.”

“Who… who are you?” The words came almost as a hiss of pain.

“Who _I_ am doesn’t matter. Alone, I am nothing. But _we_ … we together are the ones that want to take back the power that has been used to keep us down all these years.” A quiet laugh. “I’m sure the perfect, exalted, _just_ king you lived for all those years would approve of the principle, actually. Don’t you think?”

Abi let out a snarl, feeling anger rising. “You _dare_ speak of King Hiryuu?” He struggled against the grip of the hands that held him, strength fuelled by rage, but even that was to no avail; there were too many of them gripping him. The sword was pressed a little harder against the soft flesh at the hollow of his throat now, even to cause pain, though whoever held the blade - from out of his line of vision - was clearly staying their hand still.

He was valuable to them even now, Abi realised, as he felt warm blood drip down his neck in a steady trickle. Though they could threaten him, they would likely go to some lengths to keep him alive, otherwise the risk of capturing him would have been all for nothing. He took a breath, collecting himself. He could feel Guen and Shuten getting closer, all he had to do was stall for time… “You speak of fairness” said Abi. “Of justice. But the king worked to bring peace, to unite the tribes whose constant wars used to tear up the land and the lives of the people living here. If you want to undo the good he has done - ”

“It’s not about undoing good” said the man, pacing before Abi. “It’s about power, and returning it to where it belongs. The king who has the power of the gods on his side, if he is truly good, does not use it against his people. But how many times did you defend the king by killing his people, hmm? How many battles did you fight with just your beautiful, terrible, _monster’s_ eyes…” the man leaned down and Abi felt him stroke his cheek, right where the red markings of the dragon were, roughened, callused fingers almost reverential, and so, so gentle… “…how many did you kill, how many hearts did you stop in his name, hmm? Did no one ever tell you, before you became the dragon’s slave, that killing indiscriminately was wrong? Or did you forget, and call it justice because it was done with the power of a god?”

Abi opened his mouth, about to speak, but the words were lost, his mind spinning. _No_ , he told himself furiously. _No, don’t listen, he’s trying to break you, so he can use you, enslave you for your power_ … even now though, he could feel his power rising. In times of danger, to himself or to his king, or when anger flowed through him… those were the times when the dragon was there, just below the surface. It would come easily now, he knew. But it would also be harder to control, and more dangerous.

“Don’t talk to me about power, about the people” said Abi, trying to distract himself, pushing back the compulsion. “It’s you who has been sending out the raiders, isn’t it? All you want it the destruction of the things others have built. You’re pathetic. Now let me go, before - ”

“Before what? Before you open your eyes and kill us all?” The voice was mocking. “You could do it, Seiryuu. I know you could.” A pause, in which Abi could hear muttering in the crowd of people pressing closer around them.

He felt the snick of a knife unsheathed close behind his head, and winced for a moment, before feeling the cloth of the blindfold flutter to the ground, the knot cut through. “But you won’t.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“It would prove me right.” That quiet laugh again, the press of the metal a little closer to his throat, closer to the main artery where his blood pulsed just beneath the skin. “So, monster. Time’s up. Make your choice.”

The hot rage welling up within him, the pain of the wounds he had been dealt, the blood running down his throat, the dragon within him clawing desperately for self-preservation, in anger; all were reasons that would pass through his mind, as he though back on why he had done it later.

But in that first moment, Abi had to admit, he thought nothing at all.

He opened his eyes.

Immediately, he felt the dragon rise within his eyes, staring through him and reaching out to those who stood staring transfixed. It was familiar, this power, but Abi knew immediately that this time something was different. Yet still, he fixed his gaze full on the man before him, staring up to meet those eyes.

Several things happened then, in quick succession. The man froze, hand fluttering to his throat before freezing inches away, paralysed. His brown eyes were widening in horror as he gazed back into Abi’s golden ones, unable to look away.

Then came the scream. At first Abi thought it came from the man, but it didn’t; it came from behind him, a young man - hardly more than a boy - with panic in his eyes and a sword too big for him, wielded in clumsy desperation as he pushed to the front of the crowd to reach the kneeling captive. Even as the sound came, Abi felt pain explode in his right side, just below his ribs, immediately feeling a wash of hot blood down his side to pool on the cave floor where he knelt. At any other time, he would have buckled, falling and trembling and screaming in pain. Now, though, he was in the grip of his power, the dragon’s eyes already trained on their prey. It sensed danger, too; whenever he was wounded, whenever he bled, it would always rise.

And now as the blood gushed from the stab wound in his side, the dragon within him _roared_.

Immediately the chief fell to his knees, letting out a strangled sound, quickly choked off as he fought the paralysing grip on his lungs, breath rattling and effortful. The youth with the sword was next, the whites of his eyes showing all around as horror seized him, as he fell to the ground clawing at the invisible dragon he saw preying on him as he died.

Abi rose to his feet as the others holding him drew back, weapons falling from hands in sudden fear. But he was not paying attention to them. All he could see was the man and the boy falling to the ground before him, each face contorted into a twisted rictus of pain made grotesque by the dancing torchlight.

 _Never use it unless you have full control_ , he had once taught himself, when he was young and new to the power. He didn’t know where the words had come from, but he thought perhaps a dragon had whispered them in his head, long ago. He had always followed them, before.

Now, though, control was the last thing on his mind.

It was too soon after the last time, his mind was too wide open, it was too fast, too much… his chest ached with it as he struggled to stay upright, clinging to control by the barest thread. And yet, Abi let the dragon’s power course through his veins, burning from eyes that still smarted with pain. There were tears running down his cheeks, some part of his mind was aware, but that was the human part, which was fading by the moment, pushed to one side. _Tears were nothing, they were only weak, human things_. He was starting to black out a little, and then there were others there before him, and the dragon within him wanted them. It wanted to tear them apart, it was screaming within him, and he wanted it too, his own mind twisted up chaotically with that of the creature that was half his being. He wanted their blood, their hearts.

The ones who weren’t wearing masks fell first, the entire cave dissolving into panicked tumult as people stampeded over each other and over bodies, struggling to flee. A torch was dropped to the ground, igniting the clothes of a corpse, but Abi barely saw it. There were more, and more people running, and the dragon wanted them, it wanted to tear them apart. Even those wearing masks were falling now, tearing the pathetic strips of bark and leather away themselves under the compulsion of those golden eyes, falling forever into the roiling darkness as their bodies twisted and trembled into stillness.

Someone behind Abi cut at the back of his knee, at his arm, at his chest. There was blood running down his neck still, from his head, from the wound in his side. But he could barely feel the pain, and what he did feel only served to enrage the dragon even more. He could see it now, behind his eyes, overlaid with the scene before him and one with it. A great, coiling, dragon as blue as the summer sky, with golden eyes like burning suns. It was, in that moment, the whole world.

He could feel his body beginning to freeze up, paralysis creeping through him, and dimly, he remembered that he would usually have stopped long ago, would have come back to himself once the bodies had piled up around. He should have collapsed long ago, stopping the dragon on its rampage of destruction and death, but now it was as if he was imprisoned in his own mind, control lost, and all he could do was watch.

_Yet was this not himself? Was this power not truly his own?_

They were running and screaming, a stumbling, rushing torrent of humanity trying to get to the outside of the cave. People were crushed beneath others’ feet, fights broke out, and the dragon within him thrashed and raged in anger; it wanted those people’s hearts, their lives. If they just bled away, then it wouldn’t be able to slake its hunger.

There were many dead now, the dragon was running out of prey. Yet still, there weren’t enough, it wasn’t enough, they were all dead, or fled…

No, he realised, his eyes piercing the flickering darkness. There _were_ more.

Huddled at the very back of the cave, a little group shrank back into the shadows. They were trapped there, away from the exit, and fear swarmed amongst them. Small, or crying, or cowering in each other’s arms. A high, thin wail rose from the group, and a tiny figure arose holding - absurdly - a toy weapon. A little girl holding a wooden sword in a small, trembling hand.

 _Children?_ Part of his mind, he knew, would once have had something to say about that.

But of course, that part was long subsumed, sunk beneath the dragon’s all-consuming hunger. He was weakening now, he knew, his body was on the edge of failing. _What if he died now?_ Maybe he was dead already, his mind was wide enough open, splintered and cracked enough for the dragon to explode through the broken edges, and his own being to fly out like a frightened bird.

 _No, he mustn’t die. The others would come, they would_ …

That thought was hard to hold on to though, when all that was pounding through his head was that the dragon must have its feast.

Blood dripped from his wounds, pattering to the cave floor from his fingertips as he took a step to the back of the cave.

It didn’t take long. Soon enough, the screaming of the children was choked away to nothing.

It was in silence that Abi let go, letting his body pitch forward onto the ground amongst the dead, almost as still as they were, strength utterly gone.

As awareness fled into the roaring blackness, the last thing he heard was the distorted sound of birdsong and rain, echoing strangely on the stone walls.

* * *

III.

A tiny dot of bright colour in the grey storm-tossed sky. He thought he had mistaken it, when first he had noticed it from the air on Shuten’s back, but there was no mistake.

“Stop” said Guen, over the roaring of the wind. “There’s something there in the sky, do you see it? I think it’s - _ah_!”

Shuten, who had been just about to launch into another jump when Guen had spoken, immediately flinched and craned upwards instead, causing Guen - who was hanging onto his back - to overbalance, toppling them both backwards into the mud. Guen landed hard, just managing to roll out of the way as Shuten, and his wickedly sharp spear, nearly fell on him.

 _He’s nervous, and twitchy with it_ , realised Guen. _Despite his attitude, he’s worried_.

He didn’t blame Shuten for that, if he was honest with himself.

“Damn it! See if I don’t make you walk on the way back! _Warn_ me, will you, when you’re about to - ” Shuten broke off, as he caught sight of what Guen had been trying to show him. His brows drew together. “Wait. Is that…?”

Guen didn’t even need to answer, as the little bird swooped down to them, chattering and fluttering wildly about their heads with sodden, bedraggled feathers as the rain came down.

Guen let Abi’s familiar companion flutter to his hand, being as gentle as he could. Yet still Jinju seemed highly agitated, pecking at his scaled palm, tugging at his cloths bound around his wrist in urgency.

“Looks like we’re not the only ones who want Abi back safe” said Guen. “Jinju, don’t worry, we’ll find him.” Even seeing Jinju all alone was a little jarring though. The little bird almost always stuck close to Abi, flying above him or perching on his shoulder. Now, though, she took flight again, circling around Guen and Shuten’s heads, never going too far away, but always in the same direction; the one where they could sense Abi, far off.

“Well at least we know we’re on the right track” said Guen, as Shuten nodded, scanning the land which they were to cross; in the distance, across the flat plain, they could see the side of a low hill, covered by scrubby trees. He let Jinju hop into the folds of his cloak, against the rain. “Come on” he said, grimacing in worry of his own as he felt Abi’s presence flare and flicker once more, followed a moment later by the flash of wordless rage that was Shuten’s spirit’s reaction to it. “There’s no more time to waste.”

The rain poured down as the they landed by the hillside where the forbidding dark maw of the cave yawned. Smoke and steam from two extinguished braziers hung in the still, eerily silent air, even as it had by the stream where they had fought, where Abi had been captured. It seemed long ago now, though it had been hours at the most, Guen thought. Darkness was descending early though, with the storm clouds above the colour of a fresh bruise, the flicker of lightning far off.

There were bodies everywhere, lying on the sodden ground. _The way they were lying though… as if…_

“Is it me, or do they look like they were running away?” asked Shuten.

Guen nodded. “It certainly doesn’t look like there was a battle.” None of the corpses showed any sign of wounds, for a start; at least not fresh ones. The only place there was blood was at the cave entrance… he frowned. The bodies there were crushed and broken, twisted and trampled into the mud. _Too many people trying to fit through too small a space, too much fear driving them_ …

“He’s here” said Guen. “I’m sure of it.”

Jinju chirruped nervously as they entered the cave. Shuten took one of the few torches that was still smouldering smokily in its wall bracket, cupping it in his hand and blowing on it so that its red glow flared once more, giving them a little light to see by as he raised it to look around.

The bodies were even thicker here, and Guen recognised the signs of several groups of bandits they had fought over the years, scratched into their gear. _Well, dragons make enemies easily_ , he thought. The tunnel grew narrower, before opening out into a slightly wider space which looked like it might be man-made, as though this place had been carved by human tools, hollowed further into the rock from a natural cave perhaps.

Abi was close, he felt. _Close, and in pain, near death maybe_ …

“Where is he?”

Shuten raised his torch, and they looked around, each drawn in the direction their sense of Abi was telling them to look. The bodies were piled on the ground even thicker here, close to the back of the cave. Though he couldn’t see much, it looked like a dead end, up ahead. Against that back wall, there were clustered shapes in the gloom that looked as though they were clawing for an escape, trapped. The guttering light of the damp, hissing torch turned everything to shadows and ghosts, and Guen felt revulsion rising within him, quickly pushed down as he told himself to focus. _You always knew what Abi’s power is, what the one you call brother can do with a single look. You should have come to terms with it long ago_.

On the battlefield, at least, he had. _But this_ …

He followed Shuten’s torch, each of them sticking close to the side wall, running their fingers along it as they peered into the flickering darkness. Finally he reached the back wall, carefully picking their way past the bodies that were still scrabbling at the wall, even slumped in death. He could feel Abi very close by now. _If they could only see_ …

His foot brushed up against something that rolled across the floor with a damp, wooden clattering sound, and he stopped, bending to pick it up. Shuten turned to him and frowned at the object in his hand. “A wooden sword?” he began. “Not much use against - ”

“Look” Guen felt his heart twist in horror as his eyes went to the face of the one who’s hand the sword must have fallen from. “Shuten, it's…”

A light, shining down on that pale face. “A child?”

He nodded. “All… all of the ones trapped at the back of the cave…”

“…Were the children?”

They stood there in silence for a long, long time, the rain pounding down outside, the low roll of thunder outside the only sound.

“We need to find Abi” said Shuten at once, as the torch in his hand guttered once more. It was close to going out, Guen knew, and he doubted they would be able to light another in this damp place. “We need to get out of this… this…”

“I know” said Guen, cutting off Shuten’s voice, before it cracked. “We have to - ”

Suddenly, a bright flash of colour at the corner of the eye, startling them both.

It was Jinju, taking flight from Shuten’s shoulder and swooping forward, leading them to a bright patch of blue in the torchlight, unmistakeable and familiar; blue hair, bound with a red ribbon, the glint of pearls.

“Seiryuu!”

“Abi!”

Shuten ran forward, dropping to his knees. Abi lay face down in a little clear circle of ground, the only one in the whole cave it seemed. Shuten thrust the torch into Guen’s hand, rolling Abi over into his arms. Abi’s eyes were closed, his face grey-pale and dirt-streaked with an ugly, blood-crusted gash at his temple staining the blue of his hair. Then they both saw the spreading pool of dark blood beneath him at the same time, the stains on his tattered clothes, the wound in his side; each drew in a sharp gasp of dread.

“He’s alive” said Guen, grimly, as Shuten laid a quick finger on Abi’s pulse. “I can sense him.”

Shuten nodded, Abi’s blood already staining his hands. “Only barely though… must be the paralysis, and the blood loss… we don’t have much time. Help me with him, will you?”

Guen was quick to comply.

 _I’m sorry_ , he thought, with a last look around the scene of massacre they had left behind. _To all the people who died here, even though your leader kidnapped Seiryuu… you didn’t deserve this. None of it_.

Yet still, he could not afford to dwell on it as they emerged back into the rain and the lowering darkness. Abi’s weight was nothing to his dragon hand, yet as Guen supported him with the greatest gentleness he could - helping Shuten make a temporary bandage out of a strip of cloth from his cloak, good enough to stop the bleeding until they returned to the palace, he hoped - his heart was the heaviest of all.

“You go” he said to Shuten after they had done all they could for now, laying a hand on his shoulder. Shuten was holding Abi in his arms, Jinju flying about them all in readiness to be away from here, it seemed. Guen could sympathise, but he knew the others must go ahead. “You’ll be faster without me.”

Shuten nodded, grimly. “We’ll meet back at the castle then, Hakuryuu.”

“Until then.”

With that, Shuten took a running jump and sprang into the air of a stormy night, leaving Guen to return alone.

* * *

IV.

The cold wind blew Zeno’s hair into his eyes as he raised his hand, the tiny green and red bird landing on his fingers. He smiled wanly, as Jinju chirruped at him, fluttering her wings and hopping onto the lacquered wooden parapet from where he looked out into the courtyard. He turned out his pockets regretfully. “Sorry, I’ve got no crumbs for you today.” Jinju made what he imagined was a reproachful sound, before fluttering in circles around his head, finally settling on his shoulder.

“Restless, huh?” muttered Zeno. He let his eyes stray to the great, solid stone bulk of the mausoleum, its high roof visible everywhere within the palace walls and beyond, for miles around.

“Wouldn’t be the only one” came a voice from his side, and Zeno looked up to see Guen come up to the railing beside him, his face troubled as he followed Zeno’s gaze. “Any change?”

Zeno shook his head. “The last I saw of Seiryuu, he was still there. He doesn’t even return to his rooms to sleep, some nights.”

Guen dropped his head. “I just wish… ah, how could we have let this _happen_? Will he ever be himself again?”

“It’ll take time” said Zeno, with more conviction than he felt. “His wounds have only just healed up, and after that…” he tailed off, thinking.

“What are you two crying about?” interrupted Shuten’s sharp voice, as he appeared at the railing on Zeno’s other side. Jinju flew to his shoulder, and for once he didn’t try to swat at her in annoyance. He was frowning as he looked where they were looking, his face falling. “What is Abi _doing_ there?” he muttered, voice brittle. “He hasn’t come out for days. The only time I saw him, he still had that bandage over his eyes. He had his sword and he asked me to spar with him - ”

Guen turned an accusatory gaze on Shuten. “His wounds haven’t even fully healed yet! Please tell me you told him no.”

“Of course I said no, idiot. You really think I’d fight him when he's…” he cast around for the right word, “…wounded?” Shuten looked away from both of the others, fingers gripping the railing too tightly. “Wouldn’t be a fair fight.“

"He’s not just wounded” said Guen slowly, echoing Zeno’s thoughts. “There’s something else, too. Ever since Seiryuu was strong enough to leave his room, he’s barely left the King’s tomb. I had the servants try to get him to eat something, then I went myself, but he said he wasn’t hungry. And that bandage he wears over his eyes…”

“He’s afraid” said Zeno. “Afraid of his own power. Afraid of himself.” The words slipped from his mouth even as they came to him from he knew not where, but, he realised a moment after he had said them, they were true. His voice fell into a heavy silence.

“What kind of a dragon is afraid of their own power?” said Shuten, anger edging into his voice once more. He began to pace restlessly, back and forth across the balcony. He curled a hand into a fist, as though he wished he had his spear with him. “Damn it, what did they _do_ to him in there?” He turned to Zeno. “Ouryuu, I don’t suppose he told _you_ about it, either?”

Zeno shook his head.

“I can guess” said Guen. “They captured him, hurt him, and he lost control of his power. The bodies we saw…” Guen and Shuten exchanged a look. “Everyone was dead, but they had been trying to run. They had crushed each other trying to get out of that cave.” He paused, his face twisting, seeming lost in memory. “There were children there, too.”

Zeno nodded, slowly, his heart contracting. _Was this what the King’s dragons had become now?_ Immediately he tried to put that thought from his mind. _No, this wasn’t Abi’s fault, Abi who was always so meticulously careful, deadly but precise. He had been kidnapped, he must have been forced, it was the only explanation_ … Yet still, Zeno could not help but let his hand brush the medallion hanging close to his heart. _King Hiryuu, if you were here, what would you say to Abi? Would you be able to help him? Or would this never have happened at all?_

He was startled out of his reverie as the wind rose again, ruffling his hair. Jinju took flight once more, a tiny spot of bright colour rising in higher and higher circles above the balcony, before flying off once more, in the direction of the mausoleum.

Guen made a half-hearted attempt at a smile. “If we can’t get through to Seiryuu, maybe Jinju can.”

 _Well_ , thought Zeno, picturing Abi sitting there in the silent half-darkness, the ever-burning incense clouding the still air as shafts of light fell upon the king’s carven stone face, _at least there will be someone there to break the silence_. Zeno had not told the others this, but he had been there when Abi had woken from the sedated sleep that the court healers had put him into, crying out weakly in fear before going silent, golden eyes open and staring at the ceiling, listless tears rolling silently down red-marked cheeks. Jinju - who had stayed strangely close to Zeno, since the return of the others - had fluttered to the bedpost, letting out a joyful trill when she saw that Abi was awake.

Even then, Abi had barely reacted.

Later, Zeno had been there too, sitting on the palace steps and looking out, when Abi had come back out under the sun. Zeno had been watching Shuten doing drills with the castle guard, his spear flashing in the weak sunlight filtering through the fast-moving clouds, when the screen had slid back behind him. Abi stood there, hair half pinned up neatly - almost to the point of fastidiousness, as ever - and adorned with its usual bright ribbon, dressed in the elegant everyday silks Abi usually wore about the palace.

For a moment, Zeno had been relieved; that was before he had seen Abi’s face though. Zeno couldn’t even see his eyes, for they were covered with a blank white bandage, but he did not need to to know something was wrong.

Abi had replied to his light, concerned questions with the barest number of words possible, voice stilted, before going to the stone mausoleum, the place that was built of their grief.

The others had not seen, and he had not told them.

Still, they had found out soon enough; everyone had. Talk of _Lord Seiryuu’s strange mood_ , of the darkness he had fallen into since his kidnapping, flooded the palace.

In fact, the reports were, such talk was spreading throughout the whole kingdom.

Things were shifting, Zeno could practically smell it in the air. He should have expected it, of course; he should have known it, ever since King Hiryuu’s life had faded. He should have known that nothing would be the same again. This incident was just the beginning, he suspected.

 _Perhaps_ , he thought, once more imagining Abi sitting alone in the half-darkness, _Seiryuu has been learning that too._

“I think Abi is going to leave, soon” said Zeno. “And I think we should let him.”

Guen was nodding, looking as though lost in thought, but Shuten turned to him in surprise. “What are you talking about, kid?”

“I don’t quite know” said Zeno quietly, raising his face to the sky as the wind picked up, lifting his hair and tugging at his clothes. “Things are going to change though, and soon. Can’t you feel it?”

**Author's Note:**

> So I was just so intrigued by that incident that occurred in one panel that I wrote a whole long angsty fic about it. Poor Abi. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed. I'm very new in the Akayona fandom, and I'm looking forward to writing more in future. A couple of things:
> 
> \- For Abi, I'm sticking with he/him pronouns as per the manga. However I headcanon Abi as a bit "???" towards gender (maybe agender. Maybe nonbinary. Probably sick of the whole issue and has more important dragon stuff to think about) but using he/him pronouns just for the sake of choosing something. It's not... actually super relevant here, but that's my headcanon anyway.
> 
> \- I named Abi's bird Jinju, which means pearl. I have an idea that Abi likes pearls a lot, which I might expand on when I get my headcanons more sorted out.
> 
> \- However, it has been brought to my attention that there are existing (fanon?) names for Abi's bird. But I didn't want to go grabbing other people's headcanons before I've read more fic for this fandom so I just went with my own working headcanon.
> 
> \- The title is a lyric from _Cover Me With Flowers_ by David Sylvian, a song which I think fits the mood I was trying to achieve in this fic very well.
> 
> \- I hope I managed to get all their voices and characterisations down! Despite the angst, this was fun to write.


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